A Thousand Shades of Regret
by ObsidianJade
Summary: Second in 'Thousand Shades' series. Failure is the hardest thing for a ninja to endure. Angst, character death. Kakashicentric. KakaIru if you squint.


S: Hello, everyone. Welcome to 'A Thousand Shades of Regret,' the second part in our first real fanfiction series. _Please make sure you read A Thousand Shades of Black first – otherwise this will make very little sense!!! _Part two of four, or possibly five, depending on how much angst I can wring out of myself and my muse.

Typed, proofed, and uploaded in less than two hours. Please excuse any resulting errors.

**WARNINGS**: As with the previous installment, this story contains **HEAVY ANGST**, **CHARACTER DEATH**, and mentions of **SUICIDE **. If any of these topics offend you, please use the back button, it's there for a reason.

SPOILERS: Mentions of Kakashi's past, focusing on his father. This is essentially an AU story, but I do try to integrate cannon elements where I can.

DISCLAIMER: Still not Japanese, still not rich, still can't draw, still don't own it.

_Author's Note: As a fellow Virginian, I extend my deepest and most heartfelt sympathy to the victims, survivors, friends, and family of the Blacksburg_ _massacre. May you find peace in days to come. _

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**A THOUSAND SHADES OF REGRET**

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Not all eyes can see by the thin light of a sickle moon. The eyes of a shinobi, though, often see too much.

The silver light on the great stone faces.

The Fourth Hokage, weeping black tears.

The still and silent form lying atop the Fourth's stone face, and even from this distance, even in this light, I can see that the hair is a distinctive gold.

Oh, gods, Naruto, what have you done?

My hands are shaking too badly to form seals. I can't teleport. All I can do is run.

I run from the village walls, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, running closer to my sensei's face, closer to those trails of blood, black tears in the moonlight.

By the time I reach him, the medic-nin are already there. Sakura is on her knees beside his body, weeping against his neck and pounding his chest with her fist.

"Why?" she sobs, over and over again. "Why, Naruto, why?"

I sit down hard on the stone, sit down before my knees can fail me. Of all my team, Naruto is the last one I would have expected. He had weathered so many years of hatred and torment. I had always thought he was so strong…

Perhaps his mask was better than mine all along.

Rolling my head up, I stare at the pale sickle moon, and, for a moment, the light is so bright it hurts my eye. It was a sickle moon like this, six years ago, when Naruto walked through the Village gates carrying Sasuke's body in his arms, Sasuke's blood soaking through his vest, Sasuke's face wet with his tears.

It was the same sickle moon, but this one must be different, to be so bright… The light from it makes my eyes burn and blur, even my Sharingan is burning…

I sense Gai next to me, feel him take my shoulder and shake it, but it's remote, detached, and I don't realize he's speaking until he shouts my name.

"You must not blame yourself, Kakashi," Gai is saying. "You must not blame yourself for Naruto's actions."

I ignore him, rub the heel of my hand against my eye to try to clear it, and I feel the wet warmth through my glove.

Tears…

Impossible. I haven't cried since my father – oh. _That _is Gai's concern. But I'm not my father. I would make the same mistake he did, I know, my team is always of greater importance than any mission, but my honor is not tarnished because of some mistake. Not from the actions of one member of my old team.

"I am not my father, Gai," I rasp to him, ignoring his proffered hand as I rise. My knees tremble, but I stand anyway. Just because they expect me to be weak from shock, I will stand on my own. I will not suffer, or die, for the sake of other people's perceptions.

_I am not my father…_

Carefully, I pull Sakura away from Naruto's corpse. Corpse… gods, he's already cold. How much blood did he lose? Why didn't that infernal fox stop his bleeding, save his life?

My vision blurs again and I fight to remember how to be a true shinobi. How not to feel emotion. _True shinobi must never show their emotions. The mission is the only priority. _

My father's voice comes back to me, the last words he ever spoke to me. '_I don't care what they tell you, Kakashi. No mission is more important than your team_.'

Obito's eye burns again, and I stop fighting and let the tears come. My team was dying around me! And even the forfeit of my honor would not save what was left.

Sakura was screaming in my arms, her voice high and ragged. "_I hate you!" _she screams at Naruto's grey face, tears flying as she shakes her head. "_You never should have come back! I hate you! Hate you!!_"

I force her into the arms of the medic-nin, and they silently take her away. She never forgave Naruto for killing Sasuke, not really. Naruto forgave himself even less.

If only I had talked to him. Trained with him. Taken him out for one more bowl of Ramen, then perhaps – Ramen?

"Iruka." The name is off my tongue before it was fully in my mind, but the rest of the thought spilled out. "Someone needs to intercept Iruka on the way back from his mission. He can't see this."

One of the remaining medics disappears to see it done, and I watch him go. Iruka doesn't need to see this, see Naruto's blood on Yondaime's face, see the boy's cold body being taken away. He shouldn't have to endure this. I won't fail Iruka, too.

No… No! I didn't fail Naruto. I didn't. His decision, his choice, had nothing to do with me. The Village will not hate me for a wrong decision. His decision. I won't be forced to stick a katana in my gut over a wrong choice.

I am not my father.

I'm not.

I'm not.

Am I?

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A/N: For those of you not in the know, Kakashi's father, Konoha's White Fang, was a well-respected ninja. When Kakashi was still very young, his father made the decision to compromise a mission in order to save his team. As a result, the Village – including the team he fought to save - turned against him, and he committed ritual suicide to regain his honor.

Please.

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